Page 39 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

I thought I was.Aren’t I?

I am. “I like you, Emma. And I thought, maybe you liked me too?”

“I do, I really do, it’s just…” She trails off. “If things don’t end well…well, we would have to get divorced. And we could never go back to being like this.” She’s not explicit, but I know what she means.

We’re friends who do things that friends don’t do. We think about each other in ways friends don’t. Dating would be a step away from what we are, but maybe a step in a better direction.

I hope.

Emma

Being stood up by my husband feels very on-brand for me.

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I check the time on my phone again. He’s 58 minutes late now.

Emma

Everything okay?

Alexander

Cant make it. Sry.

What the actual fuck?I look around at the house I’m currently waiting in. He can’t make it home? To his own house? It’s a bad joke. Done in poor taste, without a doubt. My skin itches, and I want to claw this stupid dress off my body.

And then cry a little bit.

Scooting off the couch, I pick up the heels I kicked off a half hour ago and drag my ass back into my room, shutting the door tomyroom. It isn’t really mine anymore, though. He’s practically moved in. His clothes are folded in the dresser drawers beside mine.

His toothbrush is at the sink right alongside mine.

I undo the zipper on the back of the dress that had taken me 15 painstaking minutes just to figure out how to get up on my own. I can’t be bothered to hang it neatly like it was. I just kick it off, letting it land in a far corner of the closet.

I grab a pair of leggings, a baggy flannel shirt, and my slipper moccasins and get dressed to take myself to dinner.

Ugh.He hadn’t even spelled out “sorry.” It was just “sry.” I wasn’t even worth an extra finger stroke.

It’s hard to say what’s making this feel so fucking shitty. Is it that he isn’t here right now, or that whatever we had is now dead? I was so worried about it because I knew.

I knew it would never work out. I even knew that whatever wewerewasn’t going to last. It was too fragile; he and I were always on the precipice. Always teetering on the edge of the next thing or nothing. I wasn’t ready to leave the shore, but Alexander Palomino said jump with me. And I did. Because I’ve fallen in love with him.

This ranked high as one of the stupider mistakes I’ve made.

Grabbing the keys to my car, I feel even more idiotic when I think about Blanks. He said they were inseparable, but he was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t shown up. Alex hardly even said his name.

I stopped missing him when I realized he really wasn’t coming back, but I still feel a twinge of longing whenever I drive my car or wear the jacket he bought me.

Stupid, Emma. So stupid.

Coltons looks packed tonight, the summer crowd officially infiltrating the small town. I wouldn’t be heading there in slippers, alone, on a dead night. Meaning, there was no chance in hell of me going when they were slammed. I also hadn’t been since Blanks took me. Alex didn’t venture out, and I sort of tookhis cue and didn’t either. So I turn right at the fork and pull into a parking space outside Maggio’s.

We’ve ordered pizza from here a handful of times, never staying to eat. But I can’t be at home tonight.I hate that I call it home.

I step into the pizza “parlor” that feels a little ancient, but in a homey way, and honestly debate ordering a large pizza just for myself. It’s that kind of night.

An older man scribbles down my order:medium pizza with jalapenos and artichoke hearts, and a beer.Cold, don’t care what kind,then he gives me a sympathetic smile when he asks, “For here, or to-go?”

And I say, “Here, only need one plate.”